


Old Friends

by Mrs_Hyperfixed



Series: Markiplier Ego One Shots [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Confrontation, Emotional pain, Multi, Reunion, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Hyperfixed/pseuds/Mrs_Hyperfixed
Summary: Darkiplier confronts the DA about their choice the stay with the Actor. (Y/N) loses their shit.
Relationships: Actor Mark/ Y/n, Damien | The Mayor/Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?), Damien/ reader, Darkiplier/ Y/N, Mark Fischbach/Y/N | The District Attorney
Series: Markiplier Ego One Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794175
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Old Friends

At first you thought you might be dreaming. But no, this felt too real. You had had horrific nightmares many times since leaving that mirror, but there had always been something, some little niggling thought, that told you that everything would be okay. That when you woke up you would be safe in your lover’s arms. But not this time. This time fear ensnared you like a serpent, its grip becoming tighter and tighter. 

Most of the space around you was nothing but darkness. But in front of you there was a desk, a plush chair on either side of it. Few items adorned that desk, one being a simple lamp, the only source of light in oppressive blackness. But it didn’t put you at ease, instead making you think of the deepest parts of the ocean where no sunlight can reach. And as if by magic, a small speck of light appears. And it’s the last thing you see before being swallowed whole and ripped apart. Two empty wine glasses and a metal pitcher sat in the centre, as if they were waiting. 

A voice rang through the darkness, “Take a seat.”

You knew that voice. Regardless of how long it had been, you would never be able to forget it. It was burned into your mind like a brand. A good chunk of you wanted so desperately to run from it. But there was nowhere to go. With a reluctance that was sure to be noticed, you sat down on one of the chairs and waited. And when you heard his footsteps you made the conscious effort not to look at him, to stare into space with nothing but aloofness written on your face. 

The footsteps stopped, but he didn’t sit. Instead he picked up the pitchers and filled them up to the brim. Then he sat, picking up the wine glass and taking a sip, miraculously not spilling a single drop as he did so. 

“It’s been a while, old friend.” He put the glass down as he said this, again not spilling any of the wine. 

You couldn’t resist. You brought your eyes up to stare at him. “Hello Damien.” 

That sounded wrong. You wondered if the thing sitting in front of you even was Damien anymore. It looked like him. He had changed your old body to look like he had when he. . . was still  _ him _ , much like Mark had done when he had stolen Damien’s own body. But somehow you knew that the scars remained, imprinted on that body in a way that was impossible to get rid of. His skin was grey, and he carried an aura of darkness with him wherever he went. Blue and red outlined his form, and a ringing followed him. A ringing that could signal his arrival to anyone, but by the time they heard it it would be too late to run from him. 

“How’s Celine?” You didn’t really care about her, but you needed to know if she was in there, listening to what you were saying and puppeting the body when it spoke to you.

“She’s sleeping.”

Good thing too if he was telling the truth, for you couldn’t promise that you wouldn’t launch yourself over the table to attack her if she was the one sitting in front of you. Anger and hatred for her outweighed fear and caution any day of the week. And as for Damien. . . You couldn’t tell where your feelings for him stood. Something in you was so happy to see his face and hear his voice, but that fear that had gripped you before he had sat down was still there.. And that was on top of no small storm of anger that was brewing in your gut. Part of you wanted to hurt him, trap him, isolate him.

You resented him. 

He had left you. 

You were glad you had accepted the seat now, all these emotions were making your head spin. You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. You could sense that the oncoming conversation wasn’t going to be pleasant. And being situated on one side of a desk reminded you of when you were young and getting into trouble at school, with the headmaster towering over you on the other side while he scolded you. But the thought that he had the nerve to talk down to you only made that anger even worse. 

“How could you?”

Your eyes snapped open. Damien looked. . . sad. And angry. Good. You hoped that he was feeling as many conflicting emotions as you were. You wanted him to be as torn up as you were. 

You wanted to know if leaving you had hurt him. You hoped it had. You hoped that his mind would occasionally drift to you trapped in that mirror and the knife would twist. You hoped that sometimes he would idly trace that scar where you had been shot and think of you. 

“How could I?” you asked, raising your nails to your mouth to bite them.

It was a horrible habit you had picked up recently, but you couldn’t seem to stop. Mark had tried everything to get you to quit your nasty habit but to no avail.

Damien spoke again, seeming to sense how your thoughts drifted towards Mark, “Handling venomous snakes is dangerous. Eventually they turn on you. Eventually they’ll bite.”

_ Debatable. _

He was referring to your relationship with Mark. Asking you how you could still be with him after everything he’d done. And though it was the wrong moment, you threw your head back and laughed. The sound all but drowned out the ringing, and you could feel Damien’s eyebrow raise as he looked at you unamused. But you couldn’t help it. The idea that he could cast judgement on Mark after what Damien and Celine had done was so hysterical that you couldn’t help but laugh. Your laughter eventually toned down into giggles.

“You’re not exactly blameless Damien,” you got out between the giggles that you were trying desperately to stifle.

He leaned forward. “He betrayed us. All of us.” In those words you could hear the cold anger that shone out through the cracks of his calm facade. 

The anger that spurred him on, that kept him alive in that dead broken body that had once been yours. If that anger for Mark disappeared, would Damien and Celine’s souls move on? You hoped that Celine would burn in hell. But Damien. . . though not blameless, you wanted his soul to be put at rest. But as of right now, there was no way to do that. The being in front of you had one purpose: destroy Mark. It would not rest until that purpose was fulfilled. 

You pointed an accusatory finger. “He betrayed you. And Celine. And William. He never betrayed me.”

You angrily picked up your glass, the dark red liquid sloshing over the sides and running down your fingers. You threw it back, draining every last drop of it. You slammed the glass down, and when you saw the look on his face you had to stop. There was so much disgust written on him that you wanted to shrink back. 

“So you’ll overlook everything he’s done?"

“That’s what it looks like.” You reached forward, pouring the wine to the halfway point of the glass. Your fingers were sticky and red where the wine had spilled, resembling how they had looked when William had shot you. “What is this Damien? A reunion between friends? A lecture? A warning before the torture begins? An attempt to get me on your side? Or maybe you’re trying to get me on my hands and knees to beg for forgiveness from you?”

That disgust on his face deepened. “I half expected you to get out of that mirror by yourself. You’ve always been stubborn.” He picked his own glass back up and took another drink, this one a long drag from the glass as opposed to the previous conservative sips. “I suppose I had let my expectations of you grow too high.”

_ Asshole. _

“You were in that house. You uncovered his little plot. His betrayal. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that not only was that snake not alone anymore, but he had my good friend the District Attorney was warming his bed.”

“Well you can imagine my surprise when I realised that my best friend had fucked off and left me alone.”

“That mirror was a prison of the Actor’s own making.”

You took another sip. “Yes it was. But just because I forgave him doesn’t mean I absolve him of the blame. No one that day was blameless.”   


Damien maintained his calm demeanor. You should have too, you had been the District Attorney once. But you were over one hundred years out of practice. It was an effort not to let all of those emotions out, not to lose your cool with him.  _ Truly _ lose it.

“He’s the reason you were stuck.”

Fuck remaining calm. And fuck fear. You tossed the wine glass to the side, bits of glass going flying on the ground next to you. 

You slammed your hand down on the desk, the noise ringing out through the darkness. “You did that. You and Celine. Don’t you dare sit there and try to rid yourself of the blame. And the only reason he did any of those things is because your own sister - the woman he loved - betrayed him without even giving him a thought. And not just with any old Tom, Dick or Harry, but with his own brother. And you knew! And you-” you stopped, beginning to choke up as you thought about it. “You left me.”

Damien looked down at the desk, as if ashamed. He had been thinking of you, had admitted to it in an insulting manner. But even if he had thought about you every single day, it didn’t change the fact that he had let you rot in that mirror for a hundred years. He had never come back once. And he had the nerve to be angry that you had clung to Mark like a lifeline when he had gotten you out. Had the nerve to be angry that you had fallen in love with each other.

“You kicked me out of my own body, left me trapped there. And you never came back. I was alone for so long Damien. And you never came back.”   


And when he looked back up at you, there was something like true pain in his eyes. The same kind of pain that had been in Mark’s eyes when he had come for you. But you just didn’t have it in you to feel sorry for him right now. Because that pain had never been strong enough to make him come and get you. 

“Mark did. Late. But he came back. And you know what makes that hurt even more?” You took another deep breath, steadying yourself and trying so damn hard not to cry. “You were my first love Damien. You were my best friend. And I waited for you to come back for me for so long.” A tear trickled down your cheek. “It was a vain hope, but it made me strong enough to go on for a long time.” Another tear fell.

And Damien, god damn him, reached out a grey hand to wipe the tear away. Like he had done so many times in the past. And then he reached down and touched your hand. He was as cold as death. You rose from the chair, unable to sit still any longer, and before you knew it Damien was in front of you, holding you to his chest like he was afraid you would disappear in a puff of smoke. You clutched his biceps tightly, not wanting to wrap your arms around him, but still wanting to make sure he was truly there. 

And you were still so fucking angry at him. You always would be. But unleashing all that pain on him had cleared you out, and the other feelings you had came into play. You had missed him so much.

Your heart ached. You were afraid that it might split in half, shatter like that mirror. You loved Damien. You loved him so much even after everything.

But you loved Mark more.

“Things can never go back to the way they were can they?” Despair laced his voice, breaking your heart even further.

“No, they can’t. I’m not even sure I would want them too.” You allowed one arm to snake around Damien’s chest, the other hand still maintaining a tight grip on his bicep. “Mark did a terrible thing. But so did you. So did Celine and William.” 

Damien buried his head into your shoulder, whispering his next words, “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Another tear fell. 

“Neither did he,” you whispered back. “And he was the one that dragged me out.”

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed there in the abyss holding each other, tears flowing freely.

And it killed you to do this, but you planted your hand on his chest and pushed him away. Because as much as you wanted to stay there with him a little while longer, you could never take his side. And as much as you wanted to remember the man who you had been in love with, you knew that the being in front of you would never be him. He had changed in an irreversible way, consumed by hate and revenge.

But you had changed too. 

“Goodbye Damien.”

“Goodbye (y/n).”

You blinked, and you were back in one of the manor’s bathrooms, hands gripping the sink like a vice, the fingers on one of them still sticky with red wine. 

**Author's Note:**

> Requests at the time of writing this are open xx


End file.
